


you sunshine, you temptress

by chrkrose



Series: constant. [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Romance, mentions of past Jaime Lannister/Cersei Lannister, not j/c friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:09:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24281092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrkrose/pseuds/chrkrose
Summary: -“...and then the bloody wench just walked away. Why is it that everything I say seems to lose itself on the way between my mouth and her ears? I wonder if we speak the same tongue, she and I.”-“Are you sure your words are getting lost between your mouth and her ears or mayhaps is it between your head and your mouth?”
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: constant. [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1555945
Comments: 87
Kudos: 228





	1. put a price on emotion.

**Author's Note:**

> This will have some show elements, but only the parts I like and the parts that felt in character with their books counterpart. Take this as a book fic though.
> 
> This has no plot, and the only goal is to have j/b together :D
> 
> Ps: I haven’t abandoned any of my other fics, especially The Contract. I just had this idea in my head and I wrote it all in one go, so it’s already finished. I’ll post a chapter everyday. 
> 
> Ps2: tittle comes from the song Fine Line, by Harry Styles, which I listened to a lot while writing this fic. Who would have thought he would have such a great album? And this song is so good <333.

The dragon girl doesn’t seem very happy, but neither is Jaime, so they have that common ground. 

Not that he cares too much about the state of her feelings at the moment, although he certainly _should._

But his attention - every one of his senses really- is solely focused on the big, thick wench seated somewhere behind him, on his left, even if he’s not staring at her.

_“Kingslayer”_

_“Well met, my lady”_

_“Your Grace”_ the dragon girl corrects him at once, and he wonders if she breathes fire too, like the beasts flying around the castle when he arrived. Probably not, otherwise he would have been burned to ashes already, judging by the look on her face. 

_“Pardon me. Your grace. So many self proclaimed Kings and Queens, you must understand my confusion”_

_“You-“_ she’s about to stand up, but Jon Snow’s hand lands on her arm and she sits back down. 

_“Ser Jaime.”_ He says, and Jaime is surprised by how much he sounds like a man many moons older than his face. “ _I’m grateful that you joined us. This goes beyond houses and loyalties. It’s the future of mankind that rests upon our shoulders.”_

Jaime internally rolls his eyes. He’s not surprised that he sounds exactly like Ned Stark. 

_“I have read your letter my Lord. My army hasn’t followed me all the way to the frozen North for its landscapes”._

Behind him, Jaime swears he can hear Brienne grumble under her breath. _Give it to her to be so loyal to the wolves she gets offended on their behalf._ Jaime smiles to the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, and adds: “ _Not that your castle isn’t a lovely view” Happy now wench?_ He adds in his mind. 

_“I assume there’s at least ten thousand men outside, is that right?”_

_“Twelve thousand men. They came with me all the way from Casterly Rock. Eight thousand more are now crossing The Neck, I believe, coming from The Riverlands.”_

Snow nods, is about to speak, but the dragon queen is faster. _“We cannot trust him”_

_“Your grace…”_

_“Who is to say he won’t gather his men at night and cut all of our throats as we sleep? As he did to my father, the king he swore to protect”_

What Jaime wants to say is: _There’s one mistake in your tale, your grace. I haven’t cut his throat. I shoved a sword through his back instead. A Targaryen should know the history of their fallen kings, don’t you think?_ But he thinks the wench might knock him down if he opens his mouth to speak with such insolence. 

(Or worse, throw herself in front of him to prevent the sword that would definitely come his way, like she did with Stoneheart and the brotherhood. More of her blood on his hands).

And quite frankly, he’s getting tired of this reception. From how much time they have been standing in this room, one would think an army of dead creatures isn’t marching the frozen land this very moment, heading their way.

So what he says, instead, is this: _“As the Lord Commander said, this goes beyond houses and loyalties. But regardless, I have no reason to cause you harm when my own lady wife stands with the Starks and fights for them and for the North.”_

The room is deadly quiet with the exception of Brienne’s sharp intake of breath behind him.

_“Your Lady Wife?”_ Jon Snow is the one who asks the question.

Jaime _finally_ turns around, and yes, there she is, broken nose, wide lips, freckled skin flushed red. 

(Blue eyes wide, staring at him, through him, into his very soul).

He feel strangely amused and annoyed at once, two feelings he never thought could coexist, but when it comes to Brienne, a lot of things seem to be unexplainable at first.

_“My lady... you haven’t told them?”_ But from the looks of it, he already knows the answer. _Big stubborn pigheaded-_

_“I… I…”_ she mumbles.

_“Me and Lady Brienne of Tarth are wed.”_ He keeps staring at her as he says so. “ _We were married by a Septon a few moons back, under The Faith of The Seven.”_

_“What he says is true, Lady Brienne?”_

_Is it wench? Is it true to you?_

She takes long seconds to answer, eyes darting around the room as if waiting for someone, another Brienne perhaps, to step in and take her place. She swallows deftly when she realizes such thing won’t happen.

_“Y-yes, my Lord.”_ Brienne finally says, lowering her eyes to her hands. Jaime turns around to face Jon Snow and Daenerys.

_“That’s… I believe that settles the matter of trust regarding Ser Jaime Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock. Brienne is Sansa’s Sworn Sword. Your grace?”_

_“I agree”_ the dragon queen is definitely not happy, but as before, Jaime cares none for it.

_“Very well then. I’ll make arrangements for your men and I’ll see that Lady Brienne’s things are moved to another chamber, proper of someone of your station to share with your wife, my Lord”._

_“That’s not-“_ the wench starts.

_“Thank you my Lord. I appreciate your kindness”_ and he’s not looking at her but he can feel her eyes, like daggers, on his back.   
  



	2. you’ve got my devotion, but man I can hate you sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theres so much happening inside Brienne’s head but this is from Jaime’s pov only so he doesn’t know (it’s sad hours). I like giving hints about what she’s thinking though. She blushes a lot in this fic. Every time it means something different.

_“I thought I asked you to write me when you completed your quest” When I had your huge body wrapped in my arms in a hug so fierce any other smaller woman would have bruised ribs but not you, not you. Right before you mounted on your horse and left my camp your stupid stubborn-_

_“I did!”_

_“So you now answer as Jon Snow, Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch? I must say it doesn’t suit you wench, I would have picked another name, perhaps a more boring one, and more fit to the stubborn mule that you are”._

Brienne’s face is bright red, freckles standing out, the flush of anger descending from her neck and disappearing at the collar of her tunic. - _stopping where?_ Jaime wonders, his cock twitching and very much interested at the thought while he looks at her skin, even if he’s as annoyed with her as she’s confused beneath her rising temper.

_Our first couple’s quarrel wench, pay attention_.

_“I was the one who requested him to write you and ask for your help Ser!”_

_“That was not what I asked of you when we parted!”_

_“I don’t know why it matters if it was me or someone else who wrote you Ser, you were informed about the situation and that I completed our quest just the same!”_

He has forgotten how bloody infuriating the wench was. He has a thousand quips ready, but settles for drinking from the glass of water brought to their chambers earlier.

And then:

_“I need help with my armor”_ his voice is much quieter.

She’s stunned to silence for long seconds before she speaks again. Her tone matching his.

_“I’ll go find your squire-“_

_“None of that. I want my lady wife to help me”_

She scowls. Doesn’t move from her place at the door. At least it’s closed behind her back.

_“Brienne. I’m getting old and I’m a crippled. Please?”_

She’s still scowling, but walks to where he is and starts unbuckle the armor with his help. For minutes, the only sound in the room is of their breathing (and their skin touching where their fingers brush. Soundless to the wench, but very loud in Jaime’s head whenever it happens).

When they are done, she settles his armor carefully next to hers. Turns around.

Her cheeks are red anew, or what he can see of them with the bandage covering the nasty scar biter left on her face. 

_“I’ll leave you to your rest Ser”_ and Brienne walks out of the room, her steps echoing in the hallway outside.

Bloody infuriating woman.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bits I claimed from the show: Jaime giving Brienne her armor and not only a sword and a horse 
> 
> Everything else is book canon because there rest all my rights.


	3. crisp trepidation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, I have it all written down anyway so here’s another chapter. I either take ages to update or I do it too quickly cause I have no patience 
> 
> A note: Jaime’s only reference of romantic love is Cersei so it’s natural he will think about it and compare to how he feels for Brienne. So TW for thoughts about Cersei, although he’s clearly over his feelings for her and very much in love with Brienne.

If Tyrion was here, he would be telling Jaime how much of a fool he is.  _ Have you ever courted a woman? Actually, do not tell me. I know the answer and I do not wish to hear the details about it _ his brother would say, under his goblet of wine or whatever drink he caught his hands on.

_ I have never had the need to court a woman, brother  _ Jaime would answer, smug, but they both would know the truth of why. 

What he had with Cersei was... He had many things with Cersei, felt many things, but never this helpless frustration where he didn’t know how to go about what he wanted and how to show what he felt. 

Many things he felt, with Cersei, but never the thrill he felt when crossing paths with Brienne and having her look at him quickly, a nod of her head causing his stomach to fill with the nervousness of a green squire seeing a woman for the first time. 

His eyes would search for Cersei in a hall full of people, for reassurance, for confirmation that they belonged to each other despite the drunken king seated beside her. And she would always know. Even on the few occasions she wasn’t already looking at him when their eyes met, as if waiting for him to do what he always did, even when she wasn’t already looking, he knew that she was aware he would be searching, and her smile when she shifted her gaze towards him was proof enough.

His eyes search for Brienne in a hall full of people, search for her off their own accord, and when he sees her, the room shifts it’s shade of disinterest and boredom to something warm, something… right. As if the missing piece of a puzzle was put into place and suddenly the whole picture made sense before his eyes. She’s never aware he’s looking. Never aware of his eyes tracing the broken bridge of her nose or the thickness of her lips or the cordled muscles of her neck. She’s never aware because when she catches him staring, when their eyes meet, the blush on her cheeks and the incapacity of holding his gaze is proof enough.

Jaime wishes Tyrion was here. He knows his brother vouched for him to the Dragon Queen when he heard the news of him marching North, to aid on the fight for the living. He wonders if his actions - bringing Tommen safely back to Casterly Rock and avoiding the pretender; keeping Cersei away from the Throne - was what made him do it. Or if it’s just because, all in all, they are lions of Lannister, two broken brothers with no father and no mother and no sister and no hand and no nose and bitterness and anger and resentment flowing between them and when you have so much to be forgiven for, forgiveness becomes something easy to give.

It matters not. When Tyrion gets here, when he comes back from Dragonstone, mayhaps he might tell him how to go about this. How to show the stubborn with a skull thicker than a castle wall wench that vows spoken while she laid almost dead on The Quiet Isle weren’t said just because she laid almost dead on The Quiet Isle.


	4. we’ll be a fine line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are many scenes from A knight of the Seven Kingdoms that I truly enjoyed, especially a particular one that fit book j/b so well (even though it didn’t fit show j/b that well), so you will see it here.
> 
> There’s also quite a few scenes that would have been great if D&D knew these characters, so I fixed those too because Jaime deserves his rights. 
> 
> It’s still a book j/b fic though.

Jaime does not tell Tyrion about Brienne neither seeks his advice.

He doesn’t have to. His little brother was always too smart for his own good.

It’s the the day after his return from Dragonstone - the day after they stared at each other in silence across Winterfell’s courtyard, the day after they shouted at each other in Tyrion’s chambers until Jaime’s throat was swore. The day after they fell into an embrace and cried. The day after he returned to his own bedchamber to find Brienne already asleep, but a glass of water waiting for him on the table and a change of clothes folded on the chair - that Tyrion finds out, without any need of Jaime telling him anything about it.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

_ “Not even under the threat of thousands of dead creatures? You don’t think she would accept a truce even then had she remained as Queen Regent for Tommen?” _

_ “It’s Cersei. What do you think? That’s who she is. She might have fooled others, but I have always known who she was.”  _ The steps of the stair that lead to the top of one of the walls surrounding the castle are wet with melted snow. 

Jaime remembers another time, when snow melted the words in a letter long burned to ashes.  _ Put this in the fire. “I have always known and I loved her anyway”. _

Tyrion stops, turns around. Stares at him.

_ “What?” _

_ “She fooled you more than anybody. You never knew who she really was. That’s why you loved her” _

He doesn’t wait for Jaime’s answer. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

On the top of the wall, Tyrion’s laugh is louder than the shouts of the men working below on the courtyard.

_ “I should have returned earlier. I would give everything to see Jon Snow’s face while you whipped out his so carefully done battle plans and redid everything” _

_ “They want to use Bran as a bait for the Night King. So he decided the best way to do that was to put everything they have, every fighter, every weapon, each one of their lines of defense between them both. Now tell me, in what world does that make any sense? The trebuchets would be placed-“ _

_ “The moment you spoke about trebuchets, you have lost me brother. You are the experient commander, I am the smarter one on everything else” _

_ “Suffice to say you would be put in the crypts with the elderlies, the children and the women. The perfect place to protect the ones who cannot defend themselves from a creature that brings the dead back to kill the living” _

Tyrion shudders. Jaime laughs.

_ “Well… we are probably going to die in Winterfell regardless. Who would have thought? I have always pictured myself dying in my own bed. A belly full of wine and a girl’s mouth wrapped- _

_ “... a girl’s mouth wrapped around your cock.” _

Tyrion smiles at him, and Jaime feels the comfort of the familiar bond, of the blood shared between them, of the childhood and the laughs and the shared stories. 

_ “At least Cersei won’t get to murder me. I’m sure I’ll feel some satisfaction of denying her that pleasure while I’m being ripped apart by dead men. Maybe I…” _

But Tyrion’s voice gets lost in the wind when he hears a familiar grunt, louder than any other noise, - at least to his ears - his feet carrying his body away to the opposite side of where they are standing.

Brienne is outside the walls, training with Podrick and correcting his stance.

He hasn’t seen her this morning. Their paths haven’t crossed once since he woke up, alone, in their bed. 

At the sight of her down there, the world falls into place once more. 

_ “I hear congratulations are in order. Forgive me for my rude behavior, brother” _

And just like that, Tyrion knows.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

The moment she realizes his presence beside her, Brienne’s shoulders tense, and she flushes all over her cheeks and neck even though she hasn’t looked at him yet. 

Despite her blushes having become quite pleasant to him of late, Jaime doesn’t like the way she holds her shoulders, as if bracing for impact. 

_ “Ser Jaime” _

_ “Lady Brienne” _

They both stare at Podrick while he practices the moves she had just showed him a few moments ago. He won’t fight on the battle, but Brienne would never leave him alone without at least giving him some sort of means to defend himself and survive.

_ “You taught him well. He has improved quite a bit since the last time”.  _ Little Podrick was brave while fighting The Brotherhood even while still hurt, but he wouldn’t last a full minute if it wasn’t for Jaime and Brienne.

_ “He still has a lot to learn”  _ and her voice sounds sad, apprehensive.

_ “I’m sure you’ll teach him” _

That makes her turn to him, eyes wide and suspicious under pale eyelashes before she seems to remember she’s actually staring at him and drops her gaze, another blush taking over her face. 

_ “I was told you will be on the left flank” _ he says, changing the subject because something about her posture and how defensive she seems to be, when none of that was there before they parted months ago, bothers him a great deal.

She nods, seeming to become comfortable with him again.

_ “It’s good ground. The rise over there, I think it gives us a good advantage. If we keep a tight formation, we might be able to beat them back”.  _

_ “I see”.  _ He imagines the battle playing out in front of him, as much as he can imagine dead creatures marching to fight against their army, and nods to Brienne, who’s staring at him as if waiting for what he has to say.  _ “I think you’re right. We keep some of the strongest at the frontlines, but not all of them, and mayhaps we will-“ _

_ “What are you doing Ser?” _ And Jaime startles at how her voice sounds like, her tone so sharp and defensive it reminds him of the Riverlands, of Brienne with no scar and despising him, of still having two hands and his cousin alive. She’s scowling too, and he almost feels fondness rising in his chest even when she’s looking at him with  _ that _ expression on her homely face, but her eyes betray a nervousness he does not remember ever seeing reflected on them. 

It leaves him with a bad taste in his mouth.

_ “What?” _

_ “I think you know” _

_ “I truly don’t” _

_ “We have never had a conversation last this long without you insulting me Ser, not once.” _

And Jaime cannot believe she seems to be  _ angry _ at him. He almost laughs at the absurdity of it if he wasn’t so irritated out of sudden.

_ “You want me to insult you?!” _

_ “No!” _

_ “Good!” _

The wench opens and closes her mouth at least twice before shaking her head and turning her face, his eyes now facing her bandaged cheek while Brienne stares ahead at the field in front of them. 

_ “I do not understand…”  _ she whispers and her voice is so low Jaime would think he had imagined it if it wasn’t for his eyes watching her mouth uttering the words to the wind, so focused they are on her lips and her face.  _ “You… you have always been honest to my face, have never mocked me behind my back.” _

_ “Is that what you think I’m doing? Mocking you as soon as you turn away from me? Is that why you think I came all the way down from Casterly Rock, so I could freeze my balls in the north and have a good laugh while looking at your face?”  _ And he does not want to sound angry, he does not, but with Brienne it seems like his words never come across the way he intends them to be.  _ Why must she always expect the worse of me even after so long? Why does she never understand what I’m saying?  _

She flinches when she hears the word  _ face _ and he wants to kick himself as soon as she does, but before long she mutters  _ “Podrick is waiting for me”  _ and walks away from him, leaving him alone outside the walls, surrounded by men and women working and talking among themselves, none of them her.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

_ “and then the bloody wench just walked away. Why is it that everything I say seems to lose itself on the way between my mouth and her ears? I wonder if we speak the same tongue, she and I.” _

_ “That’s… interesting”. _

_ “It’s bloody infuriating, that’s what this is”. _

_ “Oh, I wasn’t talking about her struggle in understanding what you say. I don’t think there’s any struggle there, actually. Well, maybe. I don’t know her well, but for the little I’ve seen of her, she does seem a bit slow sometimes”. _

_ “Well, you’re wrong brother. The wench is smarter than everyone else in this castle. A better person too. Too good sometimes, and still innocent despite everything that has happened to her. She might not seem brilliant to you, but she-“ _

_ “I meant no offense brother. And that wasn’t the point I was trying to make”. _

_ “What was the bloody point then?” _

_ “Are you sure your words are getting lost between your mouth and her ears or mayhaps is it between your head and your mouth?” _

_ “What do you mean?” _

_ “You feel one thing. You think another. You say something else. And you act opposite to all those three. Even I have trouble understanding you sometimes. It’s time you match your words and thoughts and feelings and act accordingly. Have mercy on the woman who will spend her life beside you. Even if it’s a short one.”  _

_ “I do not know if she wants to spend her life beside me. It does not seem to me like she does” _

_ “She would have knocked you on your ass and demand an annulment already if she didn’t. The gods know I would have done that already in her place”. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


When he steps inside their bedchamber, Brienne is beneath the furs. Not asleep. He knows the pattern of her breathing, the way it sounds, when she’s no longer awake.

Still, he’s as silent as he can be. When he slips beneath the furs as well, the warmth sips straight to the marrow of his bones.

Brienne shifts, starts turning around so her back is to him. 

Tyrion’s words repeat themselves over and over in his mind. 

_ “Brienne?” _

She stops mid turn.  _ “Ser?” _

Her voice is soft in the dark room, the only light coming from the fire at the hearth.

_ “I came to Winterfell because…”  _ and the lump in his throat threatens to choke him, but he swallows and his left hand covers the scars on where his right hand should be.  _ “I’m not the fighter I used to be. But I would be honored to stand beside you… and die beside you, if that’s what the gods have intended for us”.  _ He pauses. And then: “ _ If you’d have me”. _

Brienne is silent for a long long time, long enough his stump does not feel cold anymore, for so long he drops his hand to his stomach and folds his other arm beneath his head. 

_ “I will not let any harm come to you”.  _ She whispers in the dark.  _ “I will not let them.”  _

An oath.

It’s sudden, the devastating certainty of how much he knows her. He knows that she’ll choose to save his life over her own, if it comes to it. 

She has done it before. 

Absurdly, he wonders if this is how Cersei felt, all the times she was reminded of his willingness to die for her if he had to. But he does not think so. Because Cersei let him slip through her fingers, let him go so easily, and only seemed to care about her loss when he no longer was hers, when his heart no longer rested on the palm of her hand. 

And everything he wants to do right at this moment is to wrap himself around Brienne and not let her go anywhere, he wants to have her in his arms like that day when she left his camp, to smell the scent of her hair and her neck and to keep her with him until he’s sure there’s nothing out there that could harm her and take her away from him.

They will talk about this in the future. He will tell her, remind her, that she’s not to get herself killed protecting him, get through her stubborn thick skull that her life is worth a thousand times more than his.

But tonight, he says nothing more.

She falls asleep with her body and face turned to him, the gentle sound of her breathing as sweet to his ears as a lullaby.    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The interaction between Jaime and Brienne where she’s confused by him not insulting her, while I looooooove it seen it played out by Nik and Gwen on the show, just never worked for me in the context of show j/b. It’s been a while since they haven’t had that kind of relationship, Jaime had been polite to her many times before, so it kind of stood out to me. I’m sure for people who don’t really pay attention and only watch show j/b and considering their overall story, it doesn’t really matter, but I always thought that scene would work much better on a book context for those two, so here we have it, with a remix.
> 
> And the convo between Jaime and Tyrion on the show where Tyrion says Jaime always knew who cersei was and loved her anyway... Jaime was the person who ALWAYS believed an illusion, he never saw Cersei for who she was, he always tried to see someone that never existed there because otherwise his love for her would crumble, since she’s everything he has always despised. So I gave back his rights and fixed that dialogue because fuck D&D. 
> 
> Also the battle strategy for the show was ridiculous so I made fun of that too. Fuck D&D again.


	5. spreading you open is the only way of knowing you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s another dialogue I rewrote from the show. Fuck D&D and all of that. 
> 
> About the chapter tittle: LISTEN TO THIS SONG ESPECIALLY THIS PART.

The army of the dead will arrive earlier than expected. It’s Bran Stark who shares the news, of course.

How he knows is everybody’s guess. But everybody believes him blind. And Jaime won’t be the one to question it.

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

Every person deals with the news in a particular way. 

Tyrion turns himself to wine or any other drink he can snatch to his bedchamber.

_ “If I die, don’t let the Dragon Queen take his head off. Tommen is just a child. He doesn’t want the bloody throne.”  _ Jaime tells him one night over a shared bottle of dornish red.

_ “What about Cersei?” _

Jaime shrugs.

_ “I suppose you should try, if you can. If you want to.” _

Tyrion nods, and they no longer talk about their sister.

  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

Brienne intensifies her training, spending much of her day with Podrick, teaching him everything she can in a short span of time. 

She also drags Jaime to the courtyard early every day, before the sun is up, and beats him to dust with the excuse that she’s training them both for the upcoming battle. Jaime tells her she’s just trying to kill him before the dead creatures have the chance.  _ “Not that I blame you wench, you certainly earned that honor”. _

_ “Get up so we can do it again Ser.”  _ She ignores his jape, and he gets up and they do it all over again until the sun is up in the sky and it’s time they go their separate ways for the day.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

Jaime finds himself visiting the godswood, which surprises him. He has never been religious, despite what he said to Brienne that night when he chose to lay his heart bare - and only managed to utter a few words that got her once more too eager to die for a lost cause.

But something about the weirwood tree, the stillness of the place, as if time is suspended here, as if time does not exist when he sits beneath the tree…

It’s the third time he walks there when he sees he’s not alone.

Bran. 

Suddenly the place does not seem as inviting as it was a few moments ago.

Still, the moment of reckoning is inevitable, Jaime has learned. And if being uncomfortable and swallowing the bitter guilt he has inside himself is the price to pay for what he had done to the boy, well then. 

So he sits beneath the same place he has been sitting for the past three days and Bran Stark doesn’t say anything and they are silent for a long time before Jaime finally speaks.

He was never good at being quiet.

_ “I’m sorry for what I did to you”. _

_ “You weren’t sorry then” _ and it stings even if Bran’s voice is devoid of anger. 

He wasn’t. If it came to it, he would do it again. Not for Cersei anymore, that much he knows at least, but for his children, for Tommen and Myrcella...he wouldn't hesitate. So what is he really sorry for in the end? For being there in the first place? For being the kind of man willing to do anything for the ones he loved, even if it meant killing a child?  _ Would Ned Stark be willing to do the same? _

_ “I am not that man anymore” _ he says, only for lack of a better answer. He doesn’t know if that’s true, as much as he wanted it to be. 

_ “Yes, you are.”  _ Bran gives him the answer, and if he had any doubts about how the boy simply knew things that were beyond Jaime’s comprehension, here sitting beneath the godswood and staring at Bran’s empty eyes, all of them disappears.  _ “Who you were, and who you are, they are still the same” _

_ “Why didn’t you tell them what I did then?” _

_ “Because if I had, you wouldn’t be here, and you will be needed”. _

The question is out of his mouth before he can even properly form the thought.

_ “What about afterwards?” _

_ “Who said there will be an afterwards?”  _

Melted snow falling from the leaves of the weirwood tree wets Jaime’s hair whenever they land on top of his head.

The silence around them is deafening.

_ “What about her?” _ And even though he doesn’t say her name, he knows Bran is aware of who he’s talking about.  _ “Will there be an after for her?” _

_ “I cannot answer that. It’s not an answer that you need. It does not change what you want.”  _ He pauses then and looks at Jaime.  _ “And it will change the future, as it must happen, if I tell you.” _

It’s the only answer he will ever get. 

Jaime wants to fight. To take by force whatever knowledge the boy has.

He gets up and walks away from the godswood instead. 

Walks back to the castle. 

To Brienne.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

The fire is already going when he enters the bedchamber. Brienne is sitting on the bed, oathkeeper on her lap. When she sees him, she gets up, to put the sword back in its scabbard.

_ “It’s bloody hot in here.”  _ He complains only to see her scowl, and can’t help the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when she walks back to the bed while he’s taking off his coat, sitting back against the headboard with the furs on top of her legs.

_ “I will not put more wood on it then when you wake up cold in the middle of the night as you have been doing for the past three nights” _

_ “Mayhaps if you didn’t hog all the furs to yourself I wouldn’t complain” _

_ “I do no such thing Ser” _

_ “Or mayhaps if you allowed me to share our body warmth, I wouldn’t wake up either” _

She huffles, the flush he likes so much spreading on her cheeks and down to her neck.

He sits down on the bed on her side, but opposite to how she’s sitting, so they are face to face.

_ “I went to the godswood today. Bran Stark was there” _

_ “Did he… did he say something?” _

_ “I asked why he hasn’t told anyone about… the past. About what I did. He said he needed my help on the battle to come.” _

She nods, eyes searching his face for something more, and of course she finds it.

_ “What more?” _

_ “He said I shouldn’t assume there will be an afterwards”  _

_ “There will be an afterwards.”  _ She says, and he knows what she hasn’t said.  _ For you. There will be an afterwards for you.  _

Impossible woman.

But Bran was right. It does not matter. It doesn’t change what he wants.

So he kisses her. Without warning, just leans towards her, tilt his head the right angle, and presses his lips against her own lips. 

Brienne’s breath catches on her throat. Her hands fly to his chest, twist the fabric of his tunic. Jaime is ready for her to push him away, knock him on his ass, to punch him even.

She doesn’t do any of those.

Just leans back. Eyes wide, impossibly blue. So close like that, the color is even more mesmerizing.

Her eyes on him makes him want to kiss her again.

_ “What are you doing?” _

_ “I’m kissing you” _

_ “Why?” _

_ “Don’t you know it already Brienne? I want you”  _

_ “Ser, if this is a jape, I-I do not-“ _

He growls.

_ “Wench”  _ and kisses her again, this time holding her face with his hand, tongue darting out to taste her lips and she startles at that before shyly parting her lips and then he just has to be close to her,  _ no no Brienne this is not close enough I need more of you in my arms my lady,  _ and he wraps his arm around her waist and his hand holds her head against his own and his tongue is deep inside her mouth, tasting her,  _ tasting her,  _ and it’s Brienne, Brienne’s scent in the air, Brienne warm against him, Brienne’s lips he has between his own and gods they are so full and plump even here in the north, and he can’t get enough of them, of her.

When they part, her face is redder than he has ever seen before, lips wet and swollen, eyes bright and staring everywhere on his face but his eyes. 

He leans in again, kisses her whole cheek. Then the scarred one. She hasn’t been covering it with bandages ever since that day outside the walls, ever since that night they talked. She shudders. 

He kisses her jaw, the skin behind her ear. Whispers on her ear.  _ “I have never kissed a knight before”. _

_ “I am not a knight Ser” _

_ “I have never slept with a knight before either”  _ he murmurs against her neck and the goosebumps on her flesh are not from the cold, he’s certain of it.

_ “I am not… I am not a knight”  _ she says, breathless, when his tongue dips in the hollow of her collarbones. She tastes so good there too.

_ “Yes you are. In all the ways that matter”  _ he drops a kiss to the corner of her mouth.  _ “The kind of knight they warn the maidens about. They rescue you, bring you safely back to your castle. And when you give them your heart, they leave you behind. Now tell me wench, who left me behind in a castle?” _

She shakes her head, the threat of a smile playing on her lips before he kisses it away again. He has always been greedy, can’t help himself.

_ “You gave me a quest Ser” _ she’s breathless again when he stops kissing her and by the gods, he likes the sound of her voice like that. 

_ “Hm, you left me behind” _

_ “And you didn’t give me your heart” _

_ “I gave you a sword, didn’t I? Oathkeeper. You were supposed to understand it wench”  _

_ “You jest” _

_ “I do not”  _

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

The flush on her cheeks and neck spread to her chest and stops short of beneath her breasts, Jaime learns. To trace it down with his tongue feels like the best kind of game.

Her breasts fit perfectly in his hand and in his mouth. She’s so sensitive there, the sounds she makes going straight to his cock, and the freckles on the little mounds, leading to the pink color of her nipples, are mesmerizing. She blushes again when he stops to stare at them and he goes back to kiss her breasts only because she’s becoming too self conscious of things she shouldn’t think about while naked beneath him like this.

Brienne has freckles on her thighs too and when he tastes her cunt, it’s the first time she calls him Jaime. He stops, staring at her in awe, the sound of his name on her voice ringing in his ears and making his chest ache in a way he can’t really comprehend right now, not when he has Brienne spread open for him, only for him, her taste rich on his tongue and he puts his mouth back on her, feeling his cock impossibly hard inside his breeches and his heart beating wildly on his chest. Later, when he tells her so with a grin on his face-  _ it took giving you the Lord’s kiss to have you calling me Jaime -  _ that’ll earn him a glare and a scowl that will take him minutes to kiss it away. 

Brienne is gentle. Her arms squeeze him with a bruising grip sometimes, when she doesn’t seem to register that she’s using her strength, but when she does realize, she kisses his neck and apologizes shyly against the skin there. He doesn’t know if he likes the way she loses herself on those brief moments more because of the strength of her grip or if it’s because of her kisses afterwards. Her hands are calloused, her fingertips rough where she touches him - and how good do they feel wrapped around his cock, how  _ impossibly good _ they feel tentatively stroking him on a rhythm he didn’t even know he liked until she does it - but her nails are blunt and even if they weren’t he knows she would never use them to mark or break his skin on purpose.

Just for that, he wants to carry her marks on his body. 

When he enters her, she wraps her legs so tightly around him that he can’t move until he coax her body to relax its grip. A part of him wants to have all that strength revealed before him,  _ beneath him, on top of him _ , have her in ways where they will leave the bed as bruised as they leave the courtyard every morning. But the part of him that has Brienne so warm and wet and tight around him like this, the part of him that has her breaths and grunts on his ear with every motion of his hips, the part of him that has the moan that escapes her thick lips when he wraps his mouth around a nipple,  _ you feel so good wench, gods you feel so fucking good,  _ that part of him is in awe of how gentle and soft she is, of how womanly she is beneath the layers of her armor, of how much of  _ Brienne _ is here with him when before, when they met, he couldn’t see it, he was blind to it, and later, when he loved her, he could only catch glimpses she allowed herself to show beneath her silence and blushes, beneath her glares and scowls, glimpses she showed only when he got her angry enough to forget herself and how to hide in front of him.

When he comes, it doesn’t feel like drowning. It feels like surfacing from the deep water and breathing in air in your lungs for the first time. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

_ “Jaime” _

_ “Hm” _

_ “You’re staring” _

_ “Unless you blind me, I’ll stare at you so long as it pleases me wench.” _ A pause. Then:  _ “Does it bother you my lady?” _

_ “N-no. I mean… when people stare at me too much, I know how to ignore it. It doesn’t last long once they get used to… once they get used to it. But when you stare at me, I… I do not know…” _

_ “I think you’re sweet to look upon”. I like staring at you. I always have. _

The suspicious is back in her eyes. Not as strong as before, and the edge of mistrust and hurt seems to be gone while she lays naked on his chest, but it’s there nonetheless.

_ “Why do you keep saying things like that?” _

_ “What do you mean?” _

_ “You… sweet things. You stand up when I enter a room. I know that is proper of a Lord, but you have been doing that since…”  _ she frowns and he knows what she remembered, the memory of her entering his tent with the intent of leading him to his death. How he had jumped to his feet as soon as he saw her.  _ “Like that day outside, when you said...”  _ she says instead, changing the subject and looking at him as if he can read the rest of her thoughts, and he feels strangely smug to be aware of how he doesn’t get lost watching her thinking and telling him what’s inside her head, even if not all of it it’s said with words. 

_ “When you were rude to me while I was complimenting your strategy skills? I remember” _

_ “I was not rude Jaime.” _

_ “You were. My feelings were hurt” _

_ “Stop jesting. I’m serious” _

_ “So am I”  _ but the smile on his lips, his body naked beneath the furs and Brienne’s weight so warm on top of him, their legs tangled while she furrows her brow with those impossible blue eyes looking at him… well, he can’t blame her for not believing him.

His finger traces a line on her temple, then he smooths the skin between her eyes. She furrows her brow again as soon as his finger drop to the bridge of her nose and then her lips.  _ Stubborn wench. _

_ “I like being sweet to you”  _ he says, but what he wanted to tell her, truly, was:  _ That’s who I am, when I love. _ But it would be too much, right now, and mayhaps he can wait another day.  _ Or a few hours _ he thinks to himself and smiles even more. He also wants to kiss her because she’s blushing all over again, but her eyes drop to his chest and he doesn’t like  _ that _ so he speaks again instead.  _ “Get used to it wife”.  _

Her eyes are back to his face, and it feels like the right choice, to have spoken instead of kissing her. 

He can kiss her now anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About the bran scene: like Elloise said on a post that I don’t have the link now, but I sooooo wonderfully agree, Jaime’s arc was never an arc of redemption, but an arc of reclamation of his identity. The man he is, he has always been.
> 
> Also, spoilers for their future in this fic: they survive the war and live happily ever after <3.

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are mine <3


End file.
